


you could be happy (and i won't know)

by ronanlynchisneversleepingagain



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Coming Out, Las Vegas Aces, M/M, mentions of overindulgence in alcohol, overly protective siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 16:16:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11406009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ronanlynchisneversleepingagain/pseuds/ronanlynchisneversleepingagain
Summary: The year he turns 26, Kent Parson renews his contract, comes out and figures out how to talk about his feelings. It's a steep learning curve.





	you could be happy (and i won't know)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [originally](https://archiveofourown.org/users/originally/gifts).



 

 **@acesinsider** # _LVAces Inside Scoop_

Sources saying there’s trouble brewing w/ Parson’s contract and talks have stalled.

 **@acesinsider** # _LVAces Inside Scoop_

Might be pushed off until next summer but then risk Parson going UFA.

 **@acesinsider** # _LVAces Inside Scoop_

No one seems sure what’s holding up the talks, but Parson is def reluctant to re-sign.

 **@acesgurl** _♠️ mrs. parson ♠️_

 _@acesinsider_ noooooo pls don’t leave us parser

 **@blackaces** _GO ACES!!_

 _@acesinsider_ Maybe he’s tired of the trash fire D he’s had to put up with for 2+ yrs. Wouldn’t blame him for seeking greener pastures at this point.

 **@blackaces** _GO ACES!!_

 _@acesinsider_ do you think the aces are willing to make the moves to better the D or will they finally commit to a rebuild?

 

—

 

There was a clock in the meeting room and Kent could hear it quietly ticking behind him as the silence in the room stretched on for longer than it should have. They were waiting for him to say something, but he felt like someone had a vice grip on his throat.

He glanced at the door and then to David beside him.

“Mr. Parson?” Lanier asked, gruff even in his stilted formality.

“When do you want a decision by?” David finally asked with a pointed sigh after Kent did not answer. Kent fixed his eyes back on the door, ignoring the annoyed quirk of Lanier’s mouth and the barely controlled fury in his voice as he replied.

“The ball is in your court,” Lanier said.

Thompson cleared his throat and leaned across Lanier to address Kent directly.

“We’re also willing to entertain some revisions to the deal if you think something’s missing or lacking,” he said. “Kent, we want you here and we’re willing to do a lot to convince you of that.”

The ticking of the clock was annoyingly loud as Kent shifted in his seat.

“It’s uh…” Kent trailed off, his mouth twisting as he tried to find words. He exhaled through his nose forcefully and looked to David again. “David and I will be in touch in a few days. Thank you for your time, gentlemen.”

Kent stood abruptly, shaking Thompson and Lanier’s hands as they gaped at him, but before they could say anything, he was out the door and walking swiftly down the hallway. Dimly, he was aware of David following him, but he didn’t slow his pace until he was in the parking lot and well outside of the nondescript office building that the Aces’ ran their front office out of.

His car unlocked with an audible click as he neared it, but David caught up to him before he could actually open the door.

“Kent,” David ground out as he grabbed Kent’s shoulder and turned him around. “What the hell was that?”

“I’m starving,” Kent said, ducking the question. “Want to grab a bite?”

“Kent, I’m not your therapist, I’m your fucking agent and you just walked away from the table on an $80 million deal,” David said.

“It’ll be there after dinner, too,” Kent said, already climbing into his car. David looked like he might just drag Kent out of the car by his lapels and drag him back into the meeting room himself. Kent didn’t doubt he could do it, but knew he wouldn’t. Instead, David opened the passenger side door and carefully folded his bulky frame into the low-slung car.

“It’s a good deal, Kent,” David said, obviously measuring his voice as Kent peeled out of the parking lot with unnecessary speed. “More than we discussed at our meeting last week. There’s no reason to hold out on them for another year just because you can.”

“I know,” Kent said. He took a few random turns before making a decision about where he was going and taking an illegal U-Turn. David swore next to him, his hand flying to the handle on the ceiling. Kent smirked humorlessly at him. “Relax.”

“What do you need to do? Call your mom? Hug your cat?” David asked.

Kent turned up the radio. He saw David’s jaw clench out of the corner of his eye as he drove through a yellow light with sudden acceleration. They didn’t talk again until Kent pulled into the torn-up parking lot of his favorite Indian place in town.

“Seriously?” David asked as he stared at the worn-down storefront.

“Best naan of your life,” Kent said and got out of the car.

“I have no idea what that means,” David said as he followed Kent inside.

Kent sighed. David’s narrow culinary horizons had long been a contention point between them whenever they had to meet up for business. He ordered the blandest dish on the menu for David and got his usual curry, sans rice, with double protein and veggies for himself.

The restaurant was empty except for a young kid in the corner playing with two toy cars at one of the tables. Kent thought she might be the daughter of one of the waitresses. He unfolded his napkin slowly as David took in their surroundings with an expression that was only two shades away from an eyeroll.

As soon as the waitress returned with two huge glasses of ice water for them, David spoke.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on or do I have to wait until after the naan?” he said drily.

Kent twirled his fork in his hands and pursed his lips thoughtfully.

“I don’t know,” he said after a moment. He took a long drink of water before meeting David’s eyes again.

“Bullshit,” David said as soon they made eye contact. Kent frowned at him.

He stabbed fruitlessly at the table with his fork as he tried to think of some plausible explanation that wasn’t the truth. He squinted down at the table as if he might find answers in the cheap weave of the tablecloth.

“Kent, just tell me so I can actually do something about,” David sighed.

“I’m thinking of coming out,” Kent blurted out. He glanced around quickly just in case someone might have overheard, but they were still alone in the dining room except for the small girl who was preoccupied with her toy cars. He sank back in his chair and let out a long exhale. His hands were shaking so Kent clenched them together, flexing his grip a few times before looking back at David.

David’s expression was carefully blank, an expression that Kent had seen many times at the negotiation table. Kent felt like his heart was trying to tear itself out of his chest as he waited for David’s reaction. Finally, David lips fell into a frown. Kent’s stomach dropped unpleasantly and he felt suddenly nauseous.

Before David could speak again, the doors to the kitchen swung open and their waitress appeared with her arms laden with steaming plates that she set down in front of Kent and David.

“Everything look good?” she asked.

Kent nodded and smiled bracingly at her, which she took as her cue to leave them alone again. David didn’t move a hair until the kitchen doors closed again behind her.

“Why would you do that?” David asked, still measured and calm. He made no move to pick up his silverware and eat. Kent picked up his fork anyways and speared a bell pepper into his mouth.

“Because I’m tired,” Kent said after a few more bites.

“So what? You wanna paint a huge fucking target on your back and get the shit beaten out of you nightly?” David snarled.

“No,” Kent said. He threw aside the piece of naan he had been balling up between his fingers.

“Then what are you telling me?”

“I don’t know,” Kent said. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

David still hadn’t touched his food. His hands were clenched in obvious frustration, knuckles white from tension.

“You’re not quitting,” David said. It was a statement, not a question, as though he had any real say in whether Kent played or not.

Kent felt himself flinch and turned away before grabbing his glass of water and taking a huge swallow. He took several deep breaths and then looked down at his food and took a purposeful bite. David watched him eat for several moments, his expression blank aside from the brewing anger in his dark blue eyes. They reminded him suddenly of Jack and the food turned to ashes in his mouth. He put his fork aside.

“You’re not quitting,” David repeated.

“No,” Kent agreed at length. Truthfully, it hadn’t even been a consideration on his mind until David had said it. He couldn’t imagine quitting hockey - what else was there for him?

“Okay,” David said, breathing loudly through his nose. He nodded curtly at Kent before grabbing his silverware and unwrapping them, tucking into his food with businesslike efficiency.

“Okay?” Kent asked.

“I think whatever dumbass thing you’re thinking of doing needs to wait until after you’ve signed that fucking contract,” David said. “But otherwise, okay. We’ll deal with it.”

“Just like that?”

“What do you want me to say, Kent?” David said, setting aside his bite of food with a faint grimace of distaste for it. “I don’t want to represent you anymore? You’re still one of the best players in the country, you have a Stanley Cup, a Calder and two Art Ross trophies to your name. I don’t give a flying fuck who you sleep with so long as you’re still playing hockey at the end of the day.”

Kent picked up his fork again and licked his lips, weighing his words carefully before shaking his head and sighing.

“Okay,” he said finally. “We’ll deal with it then.”

\--

 

**[ From: JEFF TROY ]**

**[ To: KENT PARSON ]**

be honest, how bad is the weather in lv

 

**[ From: KENT PARSON ]**

**[ To: JEFF TROY ]**

u serious dude

 

**[ From: JEFF TROY ]**

**[ To: KENT PARSON ]**

as a heart attack

 

**[ From: KENT PARSON ]**

**[ To: JEFF TROY ]**

jesus. hope they’re offering $$ cause the weather is shit.

 

**[ From: JEFF TROY ]**

**[ To: KENT PARSON ]**

it’s not bad. would probably be more but half their cap is tied up with some asshole star winger

 looking at dallas and tampa too.

 

**[ From: KENT PARSON ]**

**[ To: JEFF TROY ]**

ha

 

**[ From: JEFF TROY ]**

**[ To: KENT PARSON ]**

 we cool if it ends up being lv

 

**[ From: KENT PARSON ]**

**[ To: JEFF TROY ]**

 yeah man ofc

 

 

\--

 

 

June dragged into July, but Kent didn’t sign a contract. David went to meetings with Aces top management a few times without him and Kent knew he was being handled, but also couldn’t bring himself to fight it much. Despite his general business-like slime, David had proven himself trustworthy and discreet more times than he should have had to over the course of Kent’s career and with an $80 million contract on the line, Kent didn’t expect him to do anything less than fight tooth and nail for everything Kent needed to sign.  

When he didn’t return any of the beat writers’ calls, they made their own narrative up for the delay, running with the idea that Kent wanted more of a commitment from Aces’ management to improve the team around him and get them back into serious Cup contention before their window closed. It wasn’t exactly a lie. It wasn’t the truth either.

Kent had learned a long time ago to let some narratives spin themselves out. It wasn’t like he was ready to correct them yet anyways.

The Aces had won the Cup six years ago when Kent was in his second season with the team and his first as a captain, but they had been falling apart in slow motion ever since due to bad management and worse trades. Kent had thought Sunny was joking when he’d said that nothing tears apart a team like winning, but hell if it hadn’t been true. Sunny had retired two years ago now, leaving Kent without a veteran presence at his back, and forcing him to finally buy his own house instead of just using Sunny’s pool house as his residence, as he’d been doing since he first came to Vegas. It has been a tough transition.

Having a rookie in one of his spare rooms last year had helped and he’d already told Beckett that he could keep living there this year if he wanted to. Kent didn’t mind it as much as he thought he might, even though it was wildly different than living with Sunny and his wife and little girl. Beckett was a quiet kid most of the time, content to spend most of his down time smoking Kent at video games and making disgusting protein shakes in the kitchen.  It was a hell of a lot better than living alone, which he had tried the first year after Sunny had taken his family back to Alberta.

He still hated Vegas anytime after May when he wasn’t playing hockey. He’d stayed late this year as his contract negotiations dragged on and on, but by the end of June, when David still didn’t have a new contract for him to sign, Kent decamped back to his condo in New York. He called his mom before he boarded and left a message when she didn’t answer, inviting her to dinner. Kit, stuffed in a cat carrier that somehow made even _her_ huge fluffy mass look small, glared at him for the entire 5 hours of air time and he couldn’t particularly blame her. When he got home to his condo and let her out, she disappeared under the bed for the rest of night, only her swishing tail visible to Kent as he walked around the bedroom putting things into empty drawers and closets. There was a single box of dishes in the kitchen that his mother must have dropped off weeks ago and he spent some time unpacking them, but after he was done, he sank into the couch and flicked on the TV.

His mother didn’t call him back that night and he fell asleep snoozing on the couch, waking up only when Kit hopped on his chest in the middle of night and curled up there. He scratched her head gently before dozing off again until the early hours of the morning. Then, he watched TV on low volume until it was a reasonable hour to go for a run outside.

When he got back from his run his apartment wasn’t empty.

“Thought you were still in Sweden,” Kent said as he popped his earbuds out and threw his phone and keys on the kitchen bar. He pulled his running shoes off and collapsed, sweaty and tired, on the couch next to his sister.

“Gross, Kent,” Taylor said, wrinkling her nose as she forcefully pushed him to the other side of the couch. “Take a shower and stop ruining your furniture.”

“I can buy more.” He shrugged and shook his hair in her direction. She sputtered and scrambled up from the couch, putting distance between them.

“Not if you don’t sign a new contract,” she said, crossing her arms authoritatively.

Kent made a sound of disbelief at that, giving her a pointed look. Her stern expression relented.

“Okay, you can probably get a new couch still,” she said. “But not endless couches.”

“Is that why you’re here? Come to make sure the little brother isn’t having an existential crisis?”

Taylor leaned against the bar and scrutinized him.

“Are you having an existential crisis?” she asked.

“No,” Kent answered too quickly. Then, he added, “I don’t think so, at least. Just a regular one.”

Taylor sighed.

“Take a shower and get dressed so we can go get breakfast,” she ordered. “I fed your monster cat already because she wouldn’t shut up.”

“Aw, Tay, I know you love her,” Kent said as he peeled himself up from the couch. “You don’t have to pretend.”

“Shower,” Taylor said, pointing to his bedroom.

Taylor still hadn’t managed to get much of anything out of Kent when they found themselves around the corner at a local cafe an hour later with empty plates and half-filled coffee cups. He could tell she was gearing up for a second line of attack once they left, so he drew out his cup of coffee for as long as he could in anticipation of it.

Finally, Taylor pulled his cup away from him and gave him a look he knew well enough to know that it was time to give in, or something painful was in his future.

“Kent,” she said. “I’m worried about you. I know Mom is too.”

“I’m fine,” he said, feeling more than a little petulant.

“You know that doesn’t work on me,” Taylor said. She stood up abruptly from the table and walked toward the door, leaving Kent behind with no option except to follow her. He rolled his eyes at her back but stood anyways, leaving a few bills on the table before heading outside.

As soon as he’d caught up with her, he slowed his pace and they fell into step. Taylor gave him a sideways look before sighing and threading her arm through his.

“I just want you to be happy, Kent,” she said. “And it seems like you never are these days.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, patting her hand where it rested on his arm. “I know.”

They had almost reached his condo by the time either of them spoke again and when they did, they both started at the same time, laughing at the false start.

“Go ahead,” Taylor said.

“Uh, yeah ok,” Kent said and looked around the empty sidewalk, suddenly self-conscious. He dropped his voice even lower. “Do you remember the Olympics?”

“Yes, Kent, I remember the Olympics,” Taylor whispered back conspiratorially.

He rolled his eyes and scowled at her.

“I don’t mean in general,” he said.

“Ohh,” Taylor said and then smirked at him. “Yeah, I remember _that_ too.”

“He might sign with the Aces,” Kent said.

They had reached the lobby of his condo by then and Kent waved at the doorman as he keyed in his access code for the elevator. Taylor had a pensive look on her face, but waited until the elevator doors closed and left them alone in the spacious elevator.

“Is that a bad thing?” she asked quietly.

Kent fidgeted with his keys and cleared his throat. His mouth felt inexplicably dry as he thought about Jeff Troy being in Vegas with him. Was it a bad thing? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t say anything until they’d made it back to his condo and he’d locked the door behind him.

“I want to come out.”

The words hung in the air as Taylor froze midway through pulling her purse over her head. She turned back to him, eyes wide and surprised. Kent wished he could stuff the words back in his mouth and say them differently. His heart spasmed painfully in his chest and he shifted on his feet uncomfortably.  He didn’t even see Taylor move until she was in his arms and hugging him so fiercely that he thought for a moment he couldn’t breathe.

“Tay,” he wheezed. “Ease up a little.”

“Is that why you haven’t signed?” she asked as she loosened her arms, but didn’t let go.

“Yes.” Kent stepped away from her and collapsed on the couch. He pulled his hat off and bent it in his hands. “David is working on some kind of clause with them, but I don’t…I don’t know. It’s fucked.”

“They’re fucked if they won’t let you,” Taylor said fiercely. “What are they going to do without you anchoring their first line?”

Kent laughed humorlessly.

“That’s what David said too.”

“Does he think they’ll push off signing you until next summer just because of this?” she asked, sinking down next to him.

Kent shrugged.

“No, but I don’t think he anticipated it taking this long either,” Kent said.

“Jesus, Kent,” she swore. “You could have called me.”

“You were in Sweden,” he muttered.

“So what?” she asked.

“I didn’t want to bother you while you were having fun,” he said.

She made a hum of clear disagreement. Kit hopped up on the couch between them and glared at Taylor before settling herself like a gargoyle next to Kent, a barrier between him and his sister.

“Monster cat,” she hissed at Kit. Kent covered Kit’s ears in mock horror.

“Don’t talk to her like that,” he said. Kit purred audibly.

“I want to return to the subject of your Olympic hookup coming to Vegas,” Taylor said, ignoring Kent completely.

Kent groaned.

“You’re the one who brought it up,” Taylor reminded him. “You clearly want to talk about it.”

“It’s not a sure thing,” he said.

“Guess we’ll find out soon though,” she said. “He’s a UFA, right?”

“You’re not even supposed to know who ‘he’ is, remember?” Kent asked.

“Oh, right,” Taylor said. “I forgot I was supposed to pretend I didn’t notice the eye-fucking you were giving each other for two weeks straight. Not to mention all the real fucking...”

“Jesus.” Kent dragged a hand down his face.

Taylor frowned suddenly.

“Are you worried about it?” she asked. “You think the team won’t be cool with it?”

“It’s not that. A lot of them already know,” he said. “I’m just…I don’t want to go down that road again, you know? The Olympics are one thing, but I can’t hook up with a real teammate.”

Taylor pressed her lips together and Kent threw his head back on the couch. Sometimes he felt like he could summon the specter of Jack Zimmermann just by so much as thinking about kissing another player; he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to sleep with a teammate on a regular basis. He couldn’t do it. Not again.

“Not every guy you like is gonna be Jack,” Taylor said. Her fingers were lightly running through Kent’s curls, scratching at his scalp. He leaned into the touch. “That was a fucked up situation, but you two were kids.”

“Yeah, I know,” Kent said, although the sinking dread in his stomach was far from in agreement with his sister. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea either way. Especially if I…you know, come out. It would put him in a bad spot and I don’t want to pressure him just because I’m ready.”

Taylor pulled back and smiled at him strangely, her eyes even glinting with tears for a moment.

“Oh my god, Kent,” she said. “I think that was one of the most mature things I’ve ever heard you say. Who even are you right now?”

 

 

\--

 

 

 **@LasVegasAces**   _♠️ Las Vegas Aces ♠️_

Aces acquire UFA Jeff Troy (D). Welcome to Vegas,  @swoopsthereitis!

  **@acesinsider** _#LVAces Inside Scoop_

Parson and Troy are former Team USA teammates and won silver together in 2 yrs ago. Aces have been circling him for a long time, this is a good land.

 **@acesinsider** _#LVAces Inside Scoop_

I’m hearing rumors of a trade on the table that looks something like Desjardins (C) for March (D) from the Schooners. Other pieces unknown.

 **@acesinsider** _#LVAces Inside Scoop_

If true, means Aces are def taking Parson srsly. wouldn’t be unreasonable to see Aces back in the playoffs again after 2yr drought w/ a few more moves like this.

 **@acesgurl** _♠️ mrs. parson ♠️_

 _@acesinsider_ Please god be true. I can’t handle the stress!!! -_-

 

 

\--

 

Kent’s birthday came and went without any news from David. Then on July 5th, David finally called.

  
“How soon can you get here?” David had asked without saying hello. Kent caught a flight a few hours later and had signed the contract by evening. By the time the news hit Twitter, he had already boarded his flight back to New York. No one met him at the airport because no one knew that’s where he’d be. He still pulled his cap lower as he walked outside to hail a cab from the waiting queue. Normally, he would have just caught the train and then the subway back to his condo, but he wasn’t in the mood to test his luck.

  
He had had an extended lunch with David before David had taken him to sign the contract and it had taken every last iota of focus for Kent to grasp all of the details of the deal that David had struck. In essence, it boiled down to Kent being at their beck and call for any promotional event through the year and recording multiple videos that publically praised the Aces for being progressive and inclusive.

  
“What am I? Their gay circus monkey?” Kent had asked.

  
“Tread lightly, Kent,” David had warned him with uncharacteristic gravity. “There are certain members of the upper management team who would prefer you not get signed at all if you’re going to do this.”

  
Kent had been surly and withdrawn for the rest of the day, but he’d listened carefully to what David said and he’d signed the contract. He just hoped the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach would fade.

  
When his phone woke him the next morning by buzzing so hard it fell off his nightstand, Kent felt hungover even though he hadn’t been drinking. He groaned into his pillow. On cue, Kit padded into the bedroom, howling angrily at him for sleeping in and missing her morning feeding time.

  
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, fending her off as he tried to look at his phone notifications. Before he could read the string of text messages though, his phone started ringing from an unknown number. “Fucking hell,” he muttered as he swiped to answer it.

  
“Hello?” he asked.

  
“Hey, uh, I’m calling for Kent Parson,” the voice on the other end of the phone said.

  
“You got him,” Kent said. He swung his legs out of bed and stretched as he stood, holding the phone to his ear. “Who is this?”

  
“Hey, yeah, this is Cameron Eller with YouCanPlay. Uh, Bill Thompson called us and asked us to get in touch with you?”

  
“Oh?” Kent asked, drily amused. Yesterday at the meeting, Thompson had been….forcefully supportive. There was no actual specification for how Kent needed to come out, just that it had to be approved by both David and the Aces’ PR team before it was released. Kent guessed that this was the Assistant GM’s not-so-gentle nudge towards the Aces’ preferred method.

  
“Did he tell you why?” Kent asked as he rummaged through his drawers.

  
“Uh, no, not really,” Cameron said, sounding like he regretted the conversation more with every word.

  
“No or not really?” Kent asked, pausing his search for a clean shirt in his pile of dirty laundry.

  
“No,” Cameron decided. “He just said you might be interested in making a connection with us and he gave us your number. I’m sorry…he made it sound as though you would be expecting the call, actually.”

  
“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” Kent said, waving his hand in dismissal even though he was alone in his bedroom. “Look, Cameron, how soon are you guys able to get like a small camera crew assembled? I need to record a statement that’s right up your guys’ alley.”

  
“Oh, okay,” Cameron said. He seemed to have found his footing in the conversation again. “Like an apology or something? Or just a general statement of support? Do you have some comments you want our team to look over?”

  
Kent sighed heavily and rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

  
“Cameron, my man, how soon would you be able to have a camera crew ready for that sort of thing?”

  
“Well, you’re in NYC, right?” Cameron said. “Maybe next week? We’d need to fly a few people up there or if you want to come here to Denver…I mean, whenever. I mean, are you sure you don’t want to just record something with a camcorder or something? We can edit it for you and release it, no problem.”

  
“No,” Kent said sharply. “It needs to be nice, not some garbage I recorded on a Macbook. Whatever kind of money you need to cover the crew is fine, just bill me or whatever.”

  
“Oh, no, we don’t really —"

  
“Yeah, ok. Listen, is this your cell? Can I text you my flight information?”

  
“Yes, yeah, of course. So you’re coming here?”

  
“Yeah, I’ll be there…soon. I don’t know, I’ll text you.”

  
Kent hung up not long after and sent two texts: one to his sister and one to David telling them about the plan. Taylor texted back almost instantly and demanded to come along and David just reminded him to send any footage to his office before it made its way to the Aces so David could make sure Kent didn’t say anything dumb. The trust was outstanding.

  
Kent landed in Denver with his sister in tow the next day and Cameron met them at the airport, looking like he was still faintly confused by the entire situation. He drove them directly to the office after offering to take them to their hotel several times over, but eventually conceded.

  
The office was mostly empty when they got there and Cameron explained that most days, the few people employed full-time for the organization worked from home or were on the road, so the office was more a stopping off point than a destination. Cameron steered them straight to the back of the office space towards a hidden meeting room tucked away. It had already been staged with some lights and a draping. Kent nodded in appreciation.

  
Cameron cleared his throat.

  
“So, did you have a script or a, uh, statement?” he asked uncertainly. Taylor made a move for her handbag and she pulled out a folded piece of paper that they had both bent over in the plane for several hours until it was good enough. Cameron took it from her with a nod and read it quietly, his eyes only darting up to Kent in obvious shock once, which Kent thought was fairly impressive. In fact, he thought Cameron might be growing on him despite vaguely reminding him of a field mouse.

  
“You had your crew sign non-disclosures, right?” Taylor asked, as if she were channelling David himself.  
Cameron’s eyes widened a little and he nodded quietly.

  
“Yes, of course, Mr. David sent them over this morning and they’ve been notarized and sent back already,” Cameron said. He took a deep breath and put his hands on his hips, looking at the set-up in the room with a sudden frown. He looked back to Kent and pursed his lips. “How would you feel about doing this outside? We have a small garden in the back that’s pretty private. The sunlight would have a nice, open effect for the statement, I think.”

  
Kent exchanged a glance with Taylor and saw her lips quirk into a smile. He nodded at Cameron, feeling suddenly a little lost for words as the reality of the situation took hold.

  
“Okay, great,” Cameron said and he handed the written statement back to Taylor carefully. “We have two people helping with the lights and camera and they’ll be back here in less than an hour and then we should be ready to roll not long after.”

“Alright,” Kent said. He felt suddenly awkward as he looked around the small meeting room stuffed full of equipment. “Uh, sorry. For, you know, springing this on you.”

Cameron blinked at him and then cracked a smile.

“No problem, Mr Parson,” he said. “I’ll let you guys have some time to relax and I’ll let you know when the crew is here, eh?”

As soon as he’d closed the door behind him and left the two of them alone, Taylor turned to Kent appraisingly and swiped the hat off his head. She threw it on the table out of his reach and shoved him into a chair.

“I’ll do your hair, because you’re sure as hell not wearing that stupid snapback on camera,” she informed him. She pulled a comb and travel sized mouse out of her purse and he gave her a long-suffering look.

“Fine,” he said. “But I get to pick dinner.”

  
  
—

  
  
**@LasVegasAces** _♠️ Las Vegas Aces ♠️_

Check out @realkentparson’s special message in support of @YouCanPlay and the LGBTQ community. <3 #loveislove #youcanplay  
  
**@acesgurl** _♠️ mrs. parson ♠️_

 UMMMMM DID KENT PARSON JUST COME OUT???

  
  
\--  
  
  
**_THE LAS VEGAS ACES JUST BECAME THE MOST PROGRESSIVE TEAM IN THE LEAGUE OVERNIGHT_**  
  
Yesterday morning, the Las Vegas Aces, in partnership with the YouCanPlay organization released a video that features the captain of the Aces, Kent Parson. Promotional videos for the equality campaign are increasingly common, but what was uncommon about this video is that at about 1:46 into the video, Parson appears to confirm that he himself is a gay man, while affirming his support for the LGBTQ community and the YouCanPlay movement. When contacted for comment about the video, Aces management provided us with the following statement, “We support all of our players wholeheartedly, regardless of sexual orientation, race, or religion.”  
  
_[read more]_  
  
  
\--

  
  
Kent threw himself into training for the rest of the summer. He ignored his social media for the first time since he could remember, not even logging in to post pictures of Kit. Instead he just texted an endless stream of them to the Aces’ group chat and other friends until they all threatened to block his number. Burky would occasionally send him screenshots of the hashtag #WhereInTheWorldisKentParson which had started trending after no one had been able to land an interview with him when the YouCanPlay video hit Twitter mid-July and had apparently intermittently popped back up with creeper pics of Kent out and about in the city or on vacation. Burky thought it was hilarious; Kent just thought it was exhausting.

  
When he came back to Vegas with only a few days before team training camp started, Burky and Kaler showed up at his front door with Jeff Troy in tow. As soon as Kent opened the door, Burky threw confetti in the air and Kaler whooped loudly into the street.

  
“Happy Pride,” Burky said in his thick Russian accent.

  
“God damn it, man,” Kent said as he pawed at the glitter in his hair. While he was distracted, Kit streaked between his legs and ran out. “Hey, Kit! Stop!” he cried and then seeing Swoops reach down for her, he stumbled forward and tried to stop Swoops’ arm before he touched Kit, but was too late. “She’ll bite!”

  
Swoops easily tucked Kit into his arms and gave Kent a look like he was crazy as Kit swished her tail in obvious satisfaction, loudly purring.

  
“Woah, cat whispers,” Burky said, eyes comically wide as he took in the rare sight of someone other than Kent holding Kit.

  
“Whisperer,” Kaler corrected quietly with a chuckle.

  
“You must like to live life on the edge, Swoops,” Kent said, trying to recover from the sight himself. When he ran a hand through his loose hair, he was reminded by the light dusting of glitter that he was still covered in. He glared sideways at Burky, who was grinning proudly.  “It’s not even close to Pride month, you asshole.”

  
Kaler clapped Kent on the shoulder and snorted.

  
“He wanted to throw a parade, so I would count yourself lucky, Parser.”

  
Kent grabbed Kit from Swoops’ arms before she could change her mind about acting like a normal cat for once and he shuffled all three of the men inside, closing the door firmly before putting a squirming Kit down. She yowled at him indignantly as he did so and he pulled a face back her before straightening back up to follow his teammates into the house. Instead of all three of them, only Swoops lingered in the entryway. By the sounds of it, Kaler and Burky were already raiding his fridge.

  
“Hey,” Swoops said, stuffing his hands in his pockets awkwardly. Kit wrapped herself around his ankles and purred, making eyes up at him.

  
“Don’t believe her sweet-talking,” Kent grumbled. “She really does bite.”

  
He made to walk by Swoops and lead him into the kitchen, but Swoops grabbed his arm and held him back.

  
“Is it okay that I’m here?” Swoops asked quietly, with a glance towards the kitchen.

  
Kent blinked at him and frowned.

  
“I thought we weren’t doing this?” Kent asked.

  
Swoops frowned, his forehead creasing in consternation.

  
“What?”

  
“I said we were cool,” Kent said with a shrug. “So, we’re cool.”

  
It didn’t seem to be what Swoops wanted to hear, but his frown disappeared into a tight-lipped neutral expression.

  
“Yeah, cool,” he said, nodding his head. “Just wanted to make sure, I guess.”

  
Swoops turned and took a few jerky steps towards the kitchen, obviously just following the sound of Burky and Kaler shouting at each other.

  
“Hey, Jeff,” Kent said. He rubbed at his neck in a sudden attack of anxiety as Swoops looked back to him. He swallowed and cleared his throat. “Welcome to Vegas.”

  
Swoops’ smile was slow and sincere and it made Kent’s heart squeeze in his chest painfully.

  
“Glad to be here,” he said and then his smile curved into a smirk. “Although when you said the weather was shit, you didn’t mention it was like living in the devil’s armpit. Jesus, are you sure you guys have ice around here?”

  
Kent punched him on the arm and laughed as he led the way to the kitchen.

  
“We do and I can take you there, man,” he promised, grinning back at Swoops.  


—  
  
**@burkov64** _Alex Burkov #64_  
  
Don’t worry, I found him. #WhereInTheWorldisKentParson bit.ly/iahh9732  
  
\--

  

The Aces’ PR team did a remarkably good job at fielding the bullshit throughout the pre-season, carefully controlling who could talk to Kent and when. They pulled him into their office for long, boring prep sessions where they hurled all sorts of questions at him and made him practice keeping his temper in check while answering. Most days he was good at it. He had always had a way with the camera, after all, and reporters like him for the most part.

By the time October hit the training wheels had mostly come off - Kent hadn’t crashed and burned in any of his interviews and, although the fans’ reactions had been hit or miss, it seemed as though the media at least was playing nice. Everyone wanted Kent to be the poster child of gay sports all of a sudden and the Aces were more than happy to cash in on the free publicity so long as it was positive. It only chafed a little most days; other days it made him feel like a circus animal on a short leash.

He was in the hallway outside the locker room with a visiting reporter from Montreal when he snapped the first time. They had just lost a narrow game to the Habs and Kent got the honor of giving a post-game interview to the Habs’ beat writer, who took a brief window of the Aces’ PR team’s distraction to press Kent’s buttons in all the wrong ways.

“Kent, back in your draft year, there was a lot of discussion about whether you would go first or second. If you had gone second, you would have landed in Montreal and you’d have been playing on the other side of the ice tonight. Do you think that would have changed things for you?”

“Yeah, it would have changed what color jersey I wear,” Kent said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the reporter. He knew they were skating close to an edge here and he adjusted the collar of his shirt, wondering if they would all go away if he just started stripping in front of them. He’d seen Burky pull it off before.

“Do you think playing on a smaller-market team has allowed you more room to be who you are?” the reporter asked as he shoved his mic closer to Kent’s face.

“Excuse me?” Kent asked.

The reporter gave him an exasperated look.

“Vegas has never been much of a hockey town and you can’t deny that the reaction would be different if you played in a place like Montreal or Toronto,” he said.

“I’d say Vegas is a hockey town since they have an NHL team that sells out more than not,” Kent said flatly.

“But it’s still a relatively small market,” the reporter countered. His mic was still shoved in Kent’s face and Kent felt like swatting it away. Instead he heaved a sigh and gave the reporter his best blank look.

“Do you wanna’ just ask what the fuck you mean?” Kent asked. “Is being a queer easier in Vegas because no one fucking cares about hockey out here in the middle of fucking nowhere except the tourists?”

The reporter looked taken aback, but his mic didn’t move. Kent really did swat it aside that time and the reporter’s cry of indignation caused a stir of motion down the hallway. One the Aces’ newer PR ladies made a beeline for them with raised eyebrows.

“Everything okay?” she asked, her eyes darting between Kent and the reporter.

“Yeah, I think we’re good here,” Kent said, throwing his towel over his shoulder and raising his eyebrows at the PR lady. He thought her name might be Crystal but he couldn’t quite remember. “I’m gonna hit the showers.”

He left without asking permission and headed straight to his stall, stripping on his way there so he couldn’t be recalled. By the time maybe-Crystal walked back into the locker room, he was fully naked and headed to the shower, waiting there long enough for most of the crowd to clear out.

“I need a drink. Anyone up to join me?” Kent announced loudly as soon as the locker room door closed behind the last reporter. There were several grunts of agreement and Kent waved his hand in acknowledgement. “Watering Hole in 30 minutes,” he said. Kaler snapped a towel at him as he walked by on his way out of the room and Kent did his best impression of a smile even though his teeth were still on edge from the reporter.

He was the first one to the bar and he downed two shots of vodka in quick succession before grabbing a large booth in the back. A few minutes later, Burky and Swoops showed up with a few of the rookies in tow. They all crowded around the bar, except for Swoops who clapped Burky on the back and passed him a few bills before joining Kent.

“Heard you took a bite out of a reporter,” he said casually as he sat down.

Kent waved him off and took a drink of water.

“I barely broke skin,” Kent said.

Swoops’ lips quirked, but he didn’t quite smile. His eyes shifted over to where Burky was corralling the rookies at the bar and then he looked back to Kent with concerned eyes.

“You doing okay, Parser?” he asked.

“Living the dream,” Kent said, raising his water glass in a salute. “The big, gay dream.”

“Yeah, seems idyllic,” Swoops said drily.

“What, you don’t want to join me?” Kent asked. He spread his arms wide in mock invitation.

Swoops frowned at him.

“Dunno, Parser, you make it seem so fun,” he said.

Kent looked at him seriously for the first time that night. Swoops looked tired and worn in a way that was usually reserved for the post-season grind, not early October.  It could all be from the games they’d played that week - they’d had a particularly brutal schedule.

“You okay?” Kent asked.

Swoops looked across to him, lips pursed.

“Why did you do it?” Swoops asked.

Kent tilted his head, considering the weight of the question. They’d never explicitly talked about hooking up at the Olympics two years ago and Kent had assumed they never really would. This conversation felt dangerously close to broaching the subject though. Kent looked away and shrugged.

“Tired,” he finally answered.

“Yeah,” Swoops sighed, but didn’t get a chance to continue before several of their teammates finally wandered over with several beers too many that they placed in the middle of the table. Kent dragged one towards himself and made a “Cheers!” motion to Swoops. Swoops returned it a moment later, the pensive expression on his faced replaced with a smile that was pinched around the edges. No one seemed to notice but Kent.

It was that strange conversation with Swoops that was on his mind later that night when a stranger brushed past him at the bar and then stopped abruptly. Kent looked over to see a buff man in a tank and sunglasses looking him up and down in a clearly appreciative way. He raised an eyebrow, which triggered a grin from the stranger.

“Hey, there,” the stranger said, extending a hand. “I’m Gabe.”

Kent paused a split second before shaking his hand, but when he did, Gabe squeezed his hand pleasantly, his smile growing even wider. Gabe had a deep brown skin and dark, curly hair to go with his stocky, well-built frame and Kent was definitely appreciative.

Kent smiled at him, letting his hand linger in the shake. Gabe didn’t seem inclined to let him go either.

“Kent,” he finally introduced himself after he had managed to untie his tongue. Gabe leaned against the bar, finally letting Kent have his hand back so he could grab his drink.

“Yeah, I know,” Gabe said casually.

Kent felt a twinge of disappointment. Just a fan, then.

“So, you like hockey?” Kent asked, trying to swing back to his fan mode.

Gabe laughed and his green eyes danced in the light of the TV above the bar.

“Not really,” Gabe said. “But I like you.”

Gabe let a finger run down the side of Kent’s arm suggestively and Kent’s eyes widened a little. He grinned at Gabe and Gabe shifted a little closer.

 

—

 

It was easy being with Gabe. Uncomplicated. Gabe didn’t seem to expect anything out of Kent except great sex and it worked out just fine. Kent didn’t need the hassle of anything more anyways. He had hockey to worry about.

A somewhat surprising side effect of having Gabe in his life was the sudden groundswell of recognition that it got him in public places though. Vegas had always been a good city to fly incognito in - typically the only people who really cared about hockey were just visiting from another city and just wanted a picture or autograph if they spotted him, if they wanted anything at all. But with Gabe at his side, that attention seemed to suddenly put him under a microscope and everyone passing on the street suddenly recognized Kent Parson, Gay Captain of the Las Vegas Aces and His Official Boyfriend, Gabe Hernandez. Or at least, that’d be how the headline would run the next day with a short article about how they had held hands while getting gelato and gone to a club together. Kent had never known another hockey player’s significant other to get so much mainstream attention before, but Gabe was good at mugging for the camera and, so long as Kent kept holding his hand in public, the questions were easier, even if the attention was glaring and uncomfortable.

Taylor hated him, of course.

She came down to Vegas in late December, staying through the holidays. Gabe returned from visiting his family in Arizona on one of the last nights she was there and they went out to the club together, where Gabe got more than a little smashed, draping himself all over Kent and causing a stir wherever they went. It was a spectacle sure to make the rounds on some hockey blogs, if not Deadspin. Kent would probably get a call from Thompson or David about attracting the _wrong kind of attention_ again.

As soon as the door closed behind Gabe that night, Taylor turned to him with an incredulous look. Well practiced in his sister’s moods, Kent prepared himself for the storm.

“Are you fucking serious, Kent?” she asked. She looked like she might try to deck him, so he wheeled back and headed to the kitchen. Taylor followed him and stopped in the doorway, leaning against the wall.

“What?” Kent asked when he saw she had no intention of relaxing. “He’s fun.”

“You’re not doing this again, Kent,” Taylor said, practically spitting fire. “I had to watch you pull this party boy bullshit with Jack Zimmermann—”

“He’s not Jack,” Kent said sharply. “Not even close.”

“No, I feel like you took all the terrible stuff about Jack and decided that’s what you were going to keep for this go around at a relationship,” Taylor spat. “Drug-addled, emotionally absent fuckboy.”

“Jesus, Taylor, you can’t just say shit like that.” Kent scowled at her and poured himself another drink as his sister watched him disapprovingly.

“I can if it’s true,” she said, hands on her hips. “And pour that out, you’re not drinking anything else tonight.”

“I’m not a child,” he said, moving out of her arms’ length as she tried to take it from him.

“Kent,” she said with authority. “You’ve had enough.”

“I’ll decide that for myself,” Kent said as he walked out to the living room. Taylor stayed behind, leaning in the doorway of the kitchen and frowning at him.

“Kent, pour it out or I’m leaving,” Taylor said.

“Will you please relax?” Kent said. “I’m not Mom. I’m not going to go off the rails because I get a little drunk in my own apartment.”

He pushed the glass across the coffee table anyways and made a motion for Taylor to sit down. She came over to the couch and perched on the arm, still obviously fuming.

“You don’t need to--” she started.

“Stop.” Kent held up a hand and she sputtered, but Kent spoke over her. “First of all, don’t ever talk about Jack like that again. I don’t care what you think of him - keep it to your fucking self, Taylor. It’s done.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but Kent cut her off again.

“I’m not done,” he said. “Second of all, I’m not the same person I was when I was dating Jack, and third of all, and most importantly since it seems to be a point you’re missing, Gabe isn’t Jack. For one thing, he doesn’t speak a fucking word of French and he would probably confuse an Oreo for a puck if he didn’t have his contact lenses in.”

Taylor gaped at him with an open mouth for several seconds before she shut it with a snap and crossed her arms. She slid down onto the cushion next to him.

“I’m sorry for dragging Jack into this. I know we declared a moratorium on it,” she said slowly, not quite meeting his eyes. “I just don’t want you getting hurt like that ever again.”

“I know, Tay,” Kent sighed. “But I swear it’s not like that. I mean, things with Gabe…it’s not serious. It’s just a bit of fun.”

Taylor pressed her lips together, still obviously unhappy.

“Do your teammates like him?” Taylor asked after a long silence.

“Why the fuck does that matter?”

“That’s a no.”

“That’s a ‘it’s none of their business anyways’,” Kent said.

“Kent, not to be, like, super gloomy, but your teammates are your only friends,” Taylor said. “It should matter if they like your boyfriend.”

Kent pulled a face at her and reached across the table to grab his vodka. Taylor scowled, but kept it to herself this time as Kent took a liberal sip, raising his eyebrows in challenge. He offered the glass to her and she took it defiantly, draining it a few short chugs.

“Now who needs to slow down?” he asked.

Taylor exhaled, comically loud and put the empty glass on the table with a loud clink.

“What can I say? My baby brother drives me to drink.”

Later, after they had settled deeper into the couch and a movie had lulled them both to drowsiness, Taylor nudged him with her toe and frowned over at him.

“What ever happened with Swoops?” she asked quietly.

Kent frowned and looked away, shrugging. He turned down the volume on the TV.

“Nothing,” he said. “It was an Olympics thing. No need to make things complicated here.”

“That sounds like a classic Kenny line,” Taylor said. She snuggled close to him, hugging his arm and resting her chin on his shoulder.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kent asked. He jostled her a little, but she hung on, burying her face against his arm with a smile.

“It means you’re really good at finding reasons to push people away if you think there might be a chance of rejection,” Taylor said.

“Oh, look at you, Dr. Parson,” Kent teased. “Didn’t know you could get a PhD while bumming around Europe for a year.”

“I’m a great multi-tasker,” Taylor sighed, sounding pleased with herself.

 

—

 

**[ FROM: Gabe Hernandez ]**

**[ TO: Kent Parson ]**

hey babe, what u up to tonight xx

 

**[ FROM: Gabe Hernandez ]**

**[ TO: Kent Parson ]**

 keeeeeent i can’t blow you if you don’t answer your phone

 

**[ FROM: Gabe Hernandez ]**

**[ TO: Kent Parson ]**

 can you at least let me know you’re alive?

 

**[ FROM: Gabe Hernandez ]**

**[ TO: Kent Parson ]**

 kent seriously come the fuck on. answer your phone.

 

 

—

 

 

**_Comments on “Is Kent Parson Single Again?”_ **

> **anonymous9712742 said:**
> 
> who fucking cares
> 
> **anonymous4726156 said:**
> 
> he was never dating that guy anyways. they were just friends. my cousin knows that guy and he said that kent and him weren’t dating and it was all just lies.
> 
> **anonymous3887589 said**
> 
> get back to me when he’s straight again tbh :(
> 
> **anonymous0913583 said:**
> 
> @anonymous3887589 fuck off, it’s not like you had a chance with him anyways

 

 

—

 

 

“Parser, it’s time we find you new boyfriend,” Burky announced, throwing an arm around Kent’s shoulder as they boarded the team plane for a week-long roadie in the middle of March. “What’s type? You want muscle boy again?”

“Burky,” Kent groaned. He ducked out from underneath the larger man’s arm and tucked his carry-on under his customary seat before sitting down. “Trust me, I don’t need your help to get laid.”

“I’m not talking get laid,” Burky said, even louder this time. By now, he’d attracted the attention of a few of the guys who had boarded behind them and a few of them were grinning at the exchange, heads bent as they whispered together. Kent wanted to punch Burky sometimes. He really did. “I’m talking boyfriend. Nice boy to take care of Parser.”

“Gross,” Kent said.

“That’s asking an awful lot of this future boyfriend, Burky,” Swoops said, appearing suddenly at Kent’s other side. He had an eyebrow raised in amusement. Kent shot him a look of betrayal and Swoops just knocked his shoulder against his with a laugh as he took the empty seat beside Kent. He’d claimed it sometime earlier in the season, kicking Bennett out to go sit with the other rookies. “You’ve seen Parser’s house. It’s a disaster.”

“Can you guys focus on someone else’s dating life tonight?” Kent sighed dramatically. He pulled his snapback to the front so it would shade his face. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Aw, Parser, don’t tell me heart is still broken,” Burky said. “Three months now, yes?”

Kent’s eyes flicked to Swoops involuntarily and he swallowed heavily. It definitely wasn’t Gabe on his mind these days; increasingly, he couldn’t stop himself from fantasizing about those two weeks at the Olympics with Swoops where when, if they weren’t playing or practicing together, they’d hardly left one another’s beds.

“Something like that,” Kent said. Swoops’ eyes flicked over and met Kent’s. His lips pursed as though he was about to ask Kent a question, but then he stopped and looked over to Burky instead.

“What do you say to a Call of Duty rematch, dude?” he asked, grabbing the controller from his bag and waving it at Burky. “We can even let poor Parser play so the both of us look real good, eh?”

Kent only played for an hour with them before faking the need to nap. Swoops elbowed him playfully when he quit, but didn’t give him too hard a time. Kent sank lower in his seat, covering his eyes with his hat and spreading his legs wide to get comfortable. When he snuffled awake a couple hours later, Swoops had dozed off as well, his leg was pressed against Kent’s. It was warm and firm and Kent didn’t pull away, instead pressing back a little, studying the way their legs looked tangled together. When he looked up, Swoops was staring calmly at him, dark brown eyes taking in Kent’s expression.

“Okay?” Swoops asked finally. He didn’t move his leg away, keeping a steady pressure against Kent’s.

“Yeah,” Kent said, barely above a whisper. He let his head fall back on the seat, turning away from Swoops’ intense gaze. “Okay.”

Later at the hotel, after most of the team had cleared the lobby, Kent lingered behind as Swoops fussed with the buckle on his bag. Swoops looked up and was clearly surprised to see him there, but didn’t do much more than raise an eyebrow as he finally shouldered his bag.

“You on 5th?” Swoops asked.

“Yeah,” Kent lied as they walked towards the elevator together. His room key felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket as he adjusted his own gear bag on his shoulder and pressed only the button for the 5th floor. They walked together, shoulder to shoulder, in the empty hallway, but said nothing, only stopping when Swoops pulled up to his door.

Kent paused in the hallway, suddenly afraid he had read the situation wrong. Then Swoops looked over his shoulder and his expression was clear enough as he pushed the door open that Kent followed him in. Kent let his gear bag fall to the ground with a thump and then Swoops was on him, his mouth hot and searching on Kent’s. Kent found himself pressed up against the door and he pulled Swoops even closer, his hands scrabbling on Swoops’ clothing to find a way to his bare skin.

When Swoops’ hand landed on his belt buckle, something tumbled back into place in Kent’s brain and he pushed Swoops back a little to catch his breath. Both of them were breathing heavily as Kent tried to gather enough brain cells to say what he needed to.

“I don’t --” Kent managed, fumbling over his own words. “I don’t want to hook up.”

“Oh,” Swoops said. He looked stricken as he stepped back, letting his hands fall away from Kent’s waist.

“No, wait - fuck,” Kent said. He surged forward to pull Swoops into a hard kiss, all teeth and not enough lip. Swoops looked even more bewildered when Kent pulled back this time. Kent smoothed his hands over Swoops shirt and gathered his thoughts as they pinged wildly around his brain. “I meant that I don’t want to just hook up.”

“Oh,” Swoops said again.

Kent studied him, worried for the first time. Had that been the wrong thing to say? Swoops was nodding as he wheeled back and went to sit on the bed. The hotel bed groaned under his weight, sinking down in the middle, as Swoops rested his head in his hands. Kent hovered uncertainly, standing beside the bed.

“Any other thoughts?” Kent asked.

Swoops exhaled loudly and looked up at Kent. His expression was thoughtful. It was not exactly how Kent had imagined the moment.

“What do you mean by that exactly?” Swoops asked. “That you don’t want to just hook up?”

“Fuck, I don’t know,” Kent said, running a hand through his already messy hair. “I mean that I, you know, have feelings for you and it wouldn’t be just sex. If it was anything.”

“Do you want it to be something?” Swoops asked.

Kent was pacing by then, wringing his hat in his hands so badly he thought he might have to just beg a new one off their equipment manager the next day before practice. He stopped in his tracks and turned around to face Swoops, who still looked frustratingly composed for the moment.

“Do _you_ want it to be something?” Kent asked.

Swoops frowned and Kent’s stomach dropped to the floor. Then, Swoops stood up from the bed and walked to where Kent stood. He reached out slowly and cupped Kent’s face in his hand, running a thumb along his jawline.

“Yeah, I would be cool with that,” Swoops said. It took a moment for Kent to recognize the phrasing and his face contorted in an involuntary grimace of indignation at the chirp. He sobered a moment later.

“I don’t expect you to come out or be public,” Kent said.

“I know,” Swoops said. “I mean, I figured.”

Kent nodded, his eyes still wide. He licked his lips, closing his eyes as he tried to get his heart to slow down again so he could think straight. Instead, Swoops stepped closer, letting their chests and hips brush against each other and Kent’s heart rate spiked further. He could feel Swoops’ warm breath on his face. When he opened his eyes again, Swoops was right there, looking back.

“Hey, Parser?” he asked.

“Yeah?”

“Can we have the rest of this conversation in the morning?”

“Yeah. Cool.”

 

 

\--

 

**_A Year Later: The Las Vegas Aces’ Captain on Coming Out and Playing in the NHL_ **

 

 **Q:** _Can you tell us a little bit about why it was important for you to come out last year after playing for several seasons in the NHL already?_

 **K.P.:** Yeah, definitely. This last year was really a transition time for me. You know, last June my contract extension was on the horizon and we were hashing out details and I was just sitting in those meetings thinking, “God, the only thing I really want is to just come out and be done with it” and I was lucky enough to be allowed to do that. The Aces have been really supportive and my teammates in particular have been amazing.

 

 **Q:** _So, if you had to, you would do it all over again?_

 **K.P.:** Absolutely.

 

 **Q:** _For a while, we were hearing a lot about your new dating life, but things seem to have quieted down quite a bit. Got any news on the relationship front?_

 **K.P.:** Yeah, you know - I am seeing someone, but we’re happy to keep it quiet for now. It’s actually been really nice to have something private that’s just for me. When I first came out, I kinda thought I owed it to people to date out loud, I guess? But, now, with my new boyfriend, we’re just really enjoying each other’s company and it gets better every day.

 

 **Q:** _He sounds like a keeper._

 **K.P.:** Yeah, definitely.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to the several people who got this fic over the finish line after my plans got derailed and delayed. you guys are rockstars and will all be properly tagged when doing so wouldn’t immediately reveal my ~secret identity~.


End file.
